It's time for advertising to grow up: Marketers I'm talking to you

Good morning, Friday. Thank goodness.

So everyone's in Cannes this week for the big advertising equivalent of the Oscars, and even though I spent a lifetime in advertising and also produced some award-winning work, I have never been to Cannes. And I don't mind. At all. As a non-joiner, self-congratulatory pats on the back mixed with too much rose and endless debating on what's next is not my tempo. And that's ok with me.

But as someone who's watching the industry a bit from afar these days, I'm still bugged by the ageism conundrum. And although I've reset my compass as a writer and am busier than I've been in a long time (knock wood), I'm still a little pissy about advertising and how it relates to anyone over 35.  So put down your rose and let me explain.

Yesterday I was talking to an old pal I met years ago at a conference. He's considering a job pretty high up in the car space.  As a top-shelf marketer, he'll have to figure out how to get more people on board with this brand.  And of course, all anyone wants to know is who is this generation behind millennials, and how do we grab their attention? And for the five millennials who love cars and want to buy them how do we hit a home run with them when it comes to messaging? Why try so hard to always to capture the same same when it comes to eyeballs and audiences? There's a whole damn world out there. Isn't it high time to stop chasing the dragon?

 Sure some brands are meant for young people. But does EVERY brand have to target the same demographic solely? I just don't get it. It seems so bloody shortsighted given that, according to the US Department of Labor, "Gen X outspends all other generations when it comes to clothing, housing, eating out and entertainment." Not to mention boomers who have always been known to wield a ton of spending power. I can only speak for my generation in saying if brands are looking to build lifelong customers and fans, why do they always dump the generation they so badly chase when they are finally old enough to buy stuff? Crazy to me. I recall being the coveted demographic for a moment, only to be dumped by the next pretty young thing. You want my loyalty? Where's yours?

As for said loyalty,  I can count them on the one hand, and at the time of this post, I can only think of one- Apple.  My first computer experience was on the very first Apple, and I've been loyal ever since. But when it comes to things like makeup or clothes, I am not wearing the same eyeshadow brand I wore at 16. Nor am I wearing Guess jeans at this stage in the game. When will marketers wake up and realize that building eternal flames of fandom is a pipe dream and that with our collectively lowered attention spans and choices gone wild, they should focus less on generational marketing and more on insight around universal human truths? 

Just yesterday, Adweek published a piece on changing gender norms thanks to (wait for it) young people, with the following quote:

"Simply put, it’s time for brands to be as brave and real as Gen Z is." OMG.

Yes, there are opportunities in gender-neutral spaces. Yes, we love the inclusivity of the body positive movement. Yes, I love these kids for speaking out and being heard. But can't that be for everyone? Surely it's more than Gen Z that craves bravery and authenticity. Surely. People have been fighting for that for years. Talk to all of us. Not just some of us.

Further, if ad agencies were hiring more people 40+, perhaps strategy for how to sell products and services would look a little bit different. More inclusive. Less pet rock and more long term. Insights that cross generations. Truths about the human condition vs. just chasing the latest jail bait. The only way real insight can occur is if you've been on this Earth for a considerable stretch.

That's not to say there are distinct differences in life stages and states and of course we can't ignore that. But we must extend the invitation for "must haves"  from the high and low to have a broader appeal for the rest of us. That's smart marketing. And why brands aren't talking to people past a certain age is just plain stupidity. I should know. I buy more shit than anyone.

We will always be enchanted by youth and with good reason. I respect and adore what young people are doing to change the way we think, but there's plenty of people doing great shit past some perceived expiration date.  We deserve the courtesy of acknowledgment that we are still very much alive, and our wallets are proof that there is indeed still a pulse when it comes to our spending power. Stop trying to court demographics that don't even want to date you.  It's not cute anymore.

Cause that's what's up this ranty, rainy Friday in the 212. Yours, in X marking the spot and just saying no to ageism. Don't you forget about us. XO





Me and Marc forever.

Good morning, Wednesday. Another day of gloom. What is going on with this weather huh huh huh? OMG.

So I'm sitting here working and writing and thinking as I do. And it's come to my attention of late that I'm annoyingly New York. Meaning, to outsiders, I may seem too cityfied for my own good. And that maybe I sacrificed my second bedroom to house my clothes and dressing table where I get ready in the morning. And perhaps I wear dark colors all year for the most part. And have the good fortune to duck out of rainstorms only to discover the best ramen of all time, ordered by sitting in an individual cubicle and pressing a button, only for the big reveal to be a curtain opening to take your order, and then later serving you some pork infused goodness that makes you want to pinch yourself. Yea, that's what I've got going on. And?

So it's no surprise I've always adored Marc Jacobs because, to me, he is the quintessential New Yorker. Stylish, creative, a little fucked up. Still ahead of and setting the trends with an understanding of street culture and youth culture and pop culture. It's true that in the past few years or so, many of us Marc fans have been scratching our well-highlighted heads. It was unclear what direction he was taking his namesake brand, but I, for one think Marc is very much back. With the infamous grunge redux and now his new rebranding as "the" Marc Jacobs, I love the spirit of the brand so much. And I even forgive him for moving to the suburbs. For the perfect midcentury, sometimes we must.

Anyway, here's something I should probably own. This New York nameplate necklace, done in collab with New York Magazine to celebrate the original Milton Glaser logo created for the pub back in 1968. It's perfection in type form. And it's next-gen Carrie Bradshaw realness when it becomes a necklace. Because besides wearing my name around my neck, New York would probably be a close second. It's a massive part of me. You know it and I know it and that's why I need this necklace. Birthday's next month. Just saying. I'll take it in gold, natch.

If you have a chance, check out the rest of Marc's fabulousness lately. It's so good. I love a comeback kid. And so does this city — cheers to New York, the brand. And New York being part of my brand. And extra clinks to Marc J. for also finding all the inspiration he needs in this blessed, crazy town.

Also here's a picture of Mia Farrow looking fantastic. Just because. You're welcome.

Cause that's what's up this old New York kind of Wednesday in Manhattan, baby. Yours, in long, enduring love affairs. XO


In defense of not aging gracefully

Good morning, Tuesday. This weather though. Blech.

So let's talk about Madonna for a minute. Her new album Madame X is getting panned left and right and I must admit it's not great and I also must admit her look is super bizarre. Whatever queen told her to wear an eye patch, cowboy hat, and bridal gown all at once has misguided her. I realize this might be a slight homage to the many phases of Ms. M, but, yea, it's not her best look.

But a recent Facebook comment on a friend's feed about Madge gave me pause. Because a woman commented on how bad the album was, saying simply "I wish she would just age gracefully". Come again?

As someone who is aging (newsflash we all are), I LOATHE that term. 

Sure I know what she means. She means be more like a Catherine Deneuve. Or a Helen Mirren. Or a Meryl Streep. Or a Michelle Pfeiffer. Need I go on? I think not. Because aging gracefully really means just being naturally beautiful. And somehow being all aglow as your hormones change.  It's nice in theory. But it's complete bullshit.

Because "grace" does not apply to every single woman on Earth. And you can say a lot about Madonna, but what about her and her illustrious, groundbreaking, sex-positive career has ever led you to believe she would "age gracefully"? Hers is not a life of grace. It's a life of rebelliousness, fierceness, in your face independence. Even if you're not a big fan of hers, you have to admit it- she changed popular culture and was a champion for women and their bodies and a new kind of empowerment. 

All of this is messy stuff. And incidentally, none of that requires grace. So why on Earth would she go wafting into the ether, in a smart cardigan and slacks and an Hermès scarf? And trust me, if she wanted to do that she'd own that. But why is there this notion that women must go quietly into the twilight? 

I've talked much about my complicated feelings surrounding aging pop and rock stars. But Madonna is in a class of her own. And the rules just don't apply to her. Let her live. Let her do her thing. Bad music? Sure. Super hot guy in her video for Medellin? You bet. Doing it all very much on her own terms? You know this. Cheers to her for always reinventing and taking risks. 

Not all of us look like or act like what many think we should as we are getting older. I'm not opposed to grace in any way. But it's a stupid term when it comes to people who have always defied the odds and lived rebellious lives. Don't ask Madonna to retire to the study in sensible pajamas.  She'll scratch your damn eyes out.

I think we need to vastly redefine what age looks like. How we feel about it. Our expectations around it.  We have Diana Ross. We have artists who we perceive as more age appropriate, and somehow, Cher manages to dodge a bullet when it comes to the G word. But Madonna is her own thing. Let her do her. You do you. And we'll all be great. After all, she made it through the wilderness.

And even though her new album may be far from her best, I'm just glad she's still out there doing her thing. And if she wants to be weird and cha, cha, cha, then fuck it. Let her. 

Cause that's what's up this graceless Tuesday in the 212. Yours, in living life on your own bloody terms. XO


Five beauty essentials for beating the heat/humidity

Good morning, my little Monday dwellers. I hope you had an exciting weekend. If you are someone who has worked or works in advertising, buckle up for all those rose swilling, yacht dwelling, self-congratulatory social media moments from Cannes. My eyes. I have never been to Cannes for the ad awards hoo has and I most likely never will be. I have, however, always wanted to go and write a Hunter Thompsonesque commentary on all the masturbatory madness. Who wants to fund that? No takers so far. Shocking.

But this isn't a post about advertising. It's about the heat is on and the humidity here to stay. This time of year is super challenging for me. Though I love the ocean, like a bit of a tan, and love extra daylight, the whole hot thing is a challenge. So here's five beauty products I've found that help. At least when it comes to looking your best all Summer long. You may not reach Bardot beauty on the beach status, but a girl can try.

For the face: Hourglass Veil™ Translucent Setting Powder. OK, so this. I know any woman over 40 is wondering if powder is for her. The answer is yes. If the said powder is not drying. If you don't want to look like a decomposing mummy, use Hourglass's fantastic powder. Its formula is lovely, and it doesn't seem cakey or drying and provides the perfect finish to makeup so it won't run down your face when it's hazy, hot, and humid. I love, love, love this one. I highly recommend for all ages. And the foolproof packaging allows for just the right amount to be dispensed. Maybe my favorite new discovery.

For the hair: Leonor Greyle Serum de Soie Sublimateur- This oil from French girl favorite Leonor Greyle is the holy grail of anti-frizz, and that's a fact. Run a few drops through your hair, and you can even dare to dry naturally. It's that good. It smoothes without being too greasy or weighing down your tresses. The smell is subjective- it's not my favorite, but others adore it- kind of the way I feel about the original Rodin oil. Smells a bit like that. I've written about this one before, but worth a mention again because it's perfection.

For the girls:  Boob sweat? Don't even tell me this isn't a concern. This talc-free powder from Megababe keeps you feeling fresh and sweat free, where it matters all day long. I love this stuff. In Bust Dust I trust. 

For the thighs: A miracle of miracles. Thigh Rescue is miraculous during bare leg season. And as someone who wears dresses more often than not, strong yes to having this in stock at all times at my casa. I love Megababe so much. They get it, and they also make one for men. How cool is that?

For the whole bod, baby.  Oh, I love this guy from organic line Osea. After the shower, smelling delicious, soft skin realness. It's from Malibu, so it gives you that apres beach vibe that's just everything. I can't wait to bring it with me to beach week in July. So gorgeous and smells so good and soaks right into your skin. Claims to help with stretch marks and firms skin too. Gorgeous.

So maybe you're in Cannes reading this and wishing I had written this before your trip. Or maybe you're stateside in a sweat. Either way, summer is here and so are all these divine products to help you get through it. Cause that's what's up this sunny beauty roundup of a Monday in the unsunny 212. Yours, in frizz and sweat, be gone. XO






Strike a pose, New York

Good morning, Monday. I hope you had a wonderful weekend- the weather here in New York was just too perfect. And Khan even got to see an old friend and hang out in the park with the sun on his fur face. All in all, a lovely couple of days.

So last week I did some more binge-watching, this time the entire first season of FX's "Pose," the brilliant look into the trans world of New York in the late 80s. Created by Ryan Murphy of "Glee" fame, this show is absolutely hands down one of the most touching and entertaining shows in recent memory.  And the acting is transcendent- I now know why Billy Porter goes so big at awards shows. 

The show focuses on the uptown ballroom culture depicted in movies like "Paris is Burning," but examines the family dynamic, which is the most tender part of the show. As crews or "houses" perform at the balls with a theme, they also live in houses together as a family. The "mother" of each house keeps her children safe and provides a stable environment for them. Understand that many of these kids are found on the street, kicked out of their homes for merely trying to live their truths. The story also follows the often sad dynamic of finding love as a trans woman. These are not easy lives, and to live them with the AIDs crisis as a backdrop is even more heartbreaking. 

As a member of a generation who sexually came of age during the AIDS crisis, it's hard to explain how terrifying and horrific that time was. I lost my cousin to AIDs, and I can't think of many people who don't know someone either close to them or somewhat more distant that lost their lives to this horrible disease. And because I grew up in a family where there were gay men, I felt strongly from an early age that acceptance was an unnegotiable right. And that being free to love who you want to love and be who you want to be meant everything. How could you deny anyone the right to love and be loved? And why must I still ask the same question I was asking a million years ago?

But lest you think the show is super sad, it's not. There are tear-jerking moments for sure, but there are also happy jubilant ones. It shows the critical relationship of what it means to be a mother- to protect, to nurture, to accept and love unconditionally, which got me thinking. That New York City is the mother incarnate. For many people from all walks of life and persuasions and preferences who come here looking for acceptance, to live their dreams, and to live fully out loud precisely as they are. And even though this city has become more of a hedge funded theme park than a place where originals are born and raised, it's still in the ether.  And I hope that never changes. And sure, mothers can be cruel sometimes. But tough love is often part of a life well lived. So we deal. 

When I moved from Philadelphia to New York, I too felt loved and nurtured in a way I never had before. I always referred to New York City as a giant womb state. I somehow feel safe, protected, and warm. I know that may be strange to some who find city living anything but, but that's the way New York has always been for me. And as someone who never felt entirely at home growing up in the 215, I felt great joy and relief when I moved here way back when. 

And as I took a walk downtown on the way to a meeting last week, I saw those Pride flags flying and felt a deep sense of relief. That I live somewhere where we can be the best versions of ourselves, which is who we want to be.  The second season of "Pose" starts tomorrow night, and I'll be tuning in and laughing and crying and loving all the dance moves and incredible looks. But today, I remain grateful to a city who mothers us all and keeps us motivated, inspired, and alive.  New York is not just a city. It means so much more to so many of us who came here in search of something better: the tired, the poor, and the fabulous. 

Cause that's what's up this lifelong love affair kind of Monday in the best city in the whole damn world. Yours, in living your dreams and being perfect just the way you are. XO




Maven pick: A can do jumpsuit if you've got some curves

Good morning, Thursday. I'm worked out, worn out, ready to pass out. And it's not even 9 am. 

So quick style shout out. (You know you want it).

I'm a fan of Universal Standard and its wide array of sizing. It's a chic line with plenty of styles and options to suit many ages and body types. It's brilliant, and I'm still so utterly obsessed with the tux I got from their collaboration with Goop. It's just right.

And you all know how I feel about a jumpsuit, and judging from all of the women I see around the boroughs rocking them too, it's a bonafide movement. I'm talking about the utility take in particular. It's so comfortable and confident all at once. And strangely sexy. Or at least I feel sexy when I wear it because I always add a little bit of something feminine to it- even if it's a pretty sandal or a beautiful bra underneath.

But those boiler suits have some issues. And number one is fit. Because even if they are supposed to be oversized, for women who are not boyishly built, they can be challenging. Boobs, hips, and bellies are not often invited to this type of jumpsuit party. But I spotted this one, and I'm quite sure the fit is going to be great. I have not tried it, but I know this brand is all about fit and I'm hoping to get to their store in Soho to try one of these suckers on. So good. It comes in black and olive green and has that industrial vibe I'm all about. Plus its 150 dollar price tag is a reasonable fee for something you'll most likely wear all the time.  PS I know the pic I posted looks like a winter look, but you're more imaginative than that, aren't you darlings? Rock it with some rubber slides for a bit of Summer cool.

Jumpsuits are the new one-piece wonders of our time. Having been a dress girl for a minute now, I appreciate a new take on easy dressing. So have at this jumpsuit and please report back. 

Cause that's what's up this zipped up Thursday in the 718. Yours, in one and done. XO


Old dogs and some new tricks

Good morning, Wednesday. I'm hanging out waiting to get briefed on a new project but here's something to chew on.

Yesterday I lied about my dog's age. To a total stranger. I have no idea why I did it, but I said he was six and he's more like nine or ten. Perhaps I want him to be forever young and never leave my side (absolutely). Or maybe I wanted to make myself appear younger by having a younger dog (probably not). In any event, I lied about my dog's age (pic above), and it threw me a bit, which got me thinking about what it means to feel your age and this whole thing about telling everyone your age.

First up- what does "feeling your age" even mean?

I feel many things in life. Ranging from fear to sadness to happiness and back again. But do I feel my age? Don't know what that means. Mostly because I have never been this age, so how would I know how it feels? I can say I don't feel old in my mind or my spirit or my style. As for my body, sure. There are wears and tears. There are days when my knees hurt and days when I wish I looked better in my jumpsuit. But for the most part, I don't feel my age. Because mostly, I feel like myself. Sure, there are situations where I may feel like I've been in the oven for too long. One of those is working in ad agencies, so I put a stop to that. Another is participating in a lot of nightlife activities.  I tend to avoid situations that make me feel old. Or at least the negative connotation of whatever that means. Silly as it seems. 

Also, I don't have children of the human variety. And I have always felt this kept me feeling young. But people with kids stay young through them, of this I'm sure. For instance, do you know who Lil Nas X is? Not Nas Nas, mind you. Lil Nas X. Yea, me neither. But if you have kids, you know who he is. Because he's got one of the most popular songs in the country with "Old Town Road." And he was on the Today show, featured in a story on how he surprised a classroom of adoring children who knew every word. I had never, ever heard of him. But a friend on Instagram posted about it and said how much his young son loved him. So there's a ding. As a childless person, my access to Top 40 tuneage is slim to none. Needless to say, "OTR" never made it to my Discover Weekly.

Second- this whole admitting your age thing. I'm cool with it. But I don't think it's for everyone. You can all figure out how old I am. It's not a secret. But if age is just a number, why this urge to shout it from the rooftops? Yea, I know. Because age is only a number. For me, I look at my age as a context for the life I live, the references that make me laugh and cry, and the lens with which I see the world. And I don't lie about my age. I don't necessarily feel the need to say it to anyone and everyone. But I did lie about Khan's age yesterday.

For no reason other than I love him more than anything. I remember a woman I knew in the neighborhood who was a screenwriter with a sweet little dog called Norman. We'd often see each other in the park, surrounded by nannies and stay at home dads and then there we were- two chicks in black with little dogs we loved like our blood. Norman appeared to be quite geriatric, a wizened old gent with a similar disposition to my Khan- tolerant but not enamored with other members of dogkind, and a bit of a charming curmudgeon. Smitten with his owner. I once asked my friend how old Norm was, to which she replied, "Four and a half."  Alrighty then.

At the time, it gave me pause. But now I get it; I get it. Because my pal just wanted her fur baby to be around forever too. I haven't seen her or Norman in some time, and rumor has it she left the neighborhood in search of cheaper accommodations. I hope dear sweet Norman is happily ensconced in a new nabe and ignoring other dogs as his mom talks to other dog owners in a new, leafy setting.

I just wanted to throw down with all of that today.  The big takeaway? I'll lie about Khan's age because I love him and I won't lie about my own because I love me too.  But if you ask me my age or feel a burning need to know, whatever. It's my choice to share the number, or not. 

Cause that's what's up this age is not a thing, but it's a thing kind of Wednesday in the 212. Yours, in old dogs, pop songs, and keeping it real when it comes to the feels. XO





The murky waters of Barney's beauty floor: Take heed

Good morning, Tuesday. It's ridiculously beautiful outside, and I hope to take K for a nice long walk today in between editing a deck and finishing a proposal. LIfe is all about balance, mainly when it's perfect outside.

So last week I went to see the Camp show at the Met with a friend, and it was just lovely. The theme is a bit mamby pamby, but that's ok. I loved all the frou-frou and felt it was a nice break from the endless news cycle and craziness. Pure fun in the form of pink tulle. I'll take it.

And after the show, we enjoyed a cocktail on the Met rooftop (such a lovely experience, highly recommend), and then walked on Madison to window shop and people watch. We inevitably ended up at Barney's, which felt a bit like Filene's Basement. It seemed as if everything was on sale, and it's just about a week or so past Memorial Day. Crazy.

But despite the bargain basement vibe, the air of desperation was nowhere more apparent than at the beauty counters. I'm not sure if you've ever shopped for makeup or skin care at Barney's, but it's intense.  On the one hand, the woman at the Chanel counter pretty much ignored us as we searched for seasonal eyeshadow, but everyone else in the area honed in on us as if we were fresh meat. And the sharks seemed very, very hungry.

One woman came up to me to fixate on a crystal necklace I was wearing. Like, literally got in my face to inquire about its powers and then pitch me on some lipstick. And then the gentleman operating the MDNA skincare counter (Madonna's line) seemed to think it was perfectly ok to slather my hand with some sort of black goo that took "just over five minutes to dry." Who wants to engage in banter with a stranger trying to sell you insanely expensive stuff for five minutes? Not me. I will say the way he removed the mask/goo was cool- some sort of vacuum tool that sucked it all up yet somehow left a layer of serum that did make my hand look nice. I didn't purchase any of Madge's skincare. Her face scares me beyond belief. 

And though we almost made it out of there with our credit card balances intact, I happened to walk over to the YSL counter, and then's when the circling sharks came in for the kill. I admire the hustle as much as the next victim, but there's hustle and then there's harassment. My experience was a bit of the latter. 

Out of nowhere came a woman who told me my skin was very much in need of tightening and lifting. Listen up. I know a few things. I know my good points and bad points. And one of my very good points is my skin. It's nice. It's not saggy. It's something I'm lucky to have inherited from my mother. So when this Jaws in red lipstick and a lousy wig started slathering creams on me, I felt violated. And age shamed. And yes, the serum she put on me felt nice and looked nice. But for 350 dollars, I was not taking the bait. No way.

And as lipstick shark was slathering and shaming, the more chill shark at the YSL counter was putting concealer on me, and then finally, the new tinted moisturizer I came to see in the first place, first spotted on a pal at a photoshoot. I don't know if it was the serum that was so pretty or if the moisturizer was a hit, but my skin looked fresh. So I purchased the moisturizer, and then also purchased the two Armani eye products he recommended, which I love. Links here and here. That corrector is magic.  Oh, and I even got this primer. It's beautiful and fits the profile when it comes to getting after that glow, yo.  

So if you ever go to the beauty floor of Barney's, my suggestion is to look straight ahead and don't make eye contact. Once you do, game over. If you don't want to be bothered, that is. It's like they can smell a bit of insecurity, the need for something new, or the whiff of someone who may be on the market for one thing, but will end up seduced by product overload and walk out with more than they bargained for.

Cause that's what' up this beautiful Tuesday in the 718. Yours, in swimming with sharks and expensive adventures. XO

Maven pick: Happy Nature's sustainable, well priced boho chic

Good morning, Wednesday. It's so gloomy out. Gah. I can't get motivated and feeling less than inspired the past few weeks when it comes to posting but it always makes me feel so great to put stuff out there, and last night during an Insta scroll I found a promo for Kate Hudson's new sustainable clothing line, Happy Nature. Not to fear, this isn't Fabletics. It's so much better.

Because if you're like me, going boho in the Summer time is standard fare.  And this collection is great for gals who love their Ulla Johnson  or Doen but don't love the price points. And bonus- first purchases over 100 bucks are 30 percent off and everything is completely responsibly and ethically made.  Here's a look at some of the pieces- so cute right? I"m a big maxi dress fan when it feels hippieish and chic like these.

These minidresses are wearable all summer long with flat sandals. Adore.

Love a flowy white top in the summer time to wear with everything. These are great. Look at Jane Birkin at the top of this post for inspo. So chic.

This top may be my favorite of all- so beautiful with jeans or even with black shorts. Pretty, non?

I got the two maxi dresses at the top of the post but now seriously thinking about those minidresses above. What to do?  See now I'm inspired again. ;)

Cause that's what's up this Summer is here let's dress up kind of Wednesday in the 718. Yours, in letting it flow. XO




When fashion attacks

Good morning, Tuesday. I hope you had a lovely long weekend. Mine was jaunty and kind of cute. Discovered some cuteness in Bucks County, PA. Wondering if it's an alternative to upstate somehow? Will need to investigate further.

So Memorial Day weekend style is casual and cool and of course, Summery. But somehow the Biebers didn't get the memo and decided it was chic to dress like hipitty hoppity Oompa Loompas while shopping in Beverly HIlls. I'm not a belieber. Not at all. What is this? Why is this? Somebody explain this to me. There needs to be a memorial for these outfits. Stat. I mean, he looks marginally better than her, but she looks absolutely ridiculous.

I don't know why I'm sharing this with you. I just thought you should see it and never, ever use it for inspiration. 

Cause that's what's up this post holiday Tuesday in the 718. Yours, in weird lewks and too much money/time/who knows what. XO